


Garnish

by rudbeckia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Flirting, British Slang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 22:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudbeckia/pseuds/rudbeckia
Summary: Hux is a nightclub bouncer. Kylo is the new barkeep in charge of the cocktail menu. Can they each overcome their misconception that the other is totally unsuited to their job and hit it off?Of course they can. They hit it off hard in the restroom.(a slightly neater and slightly expanded version of a twitfic)





	Garnish

Dressed in his uniform of a black tux in a light, breathable material that has a little stretch, slight padding in the shoulders, deep plum shirt that matches his stay-put lip-stain, shoes that look designer-sleek but hide titanium alloy toe caps, Hux is prepared for a night of protecting clubbers from the clumsy attentions of any belligerent drunks who spoil the atmosphere of the establishment he quietly thinks of as his. He’s got a blade up his sleeve just in case anyone needs firm persuasion to leave the premises by the back door out into the alley by the garbage bins, but he has used it only once. Word got around about a D-list celebrity who thought their fifteen minutes of fame as runner up in a reality show gave them the right to touch what wasn’t theirs, and Hux (as far as the story goes) now has a small part of their anatomy stored on a shelf in the bar, preserved in a pickle jar. Hux has said nothing either to confirm or deny the story and nowadays a firm, “This way, please,” and a vice-like grip just above the elbow is usually enough to steer trouble out before fists are thrown.

Hux’s reputation is one factor that makes ‘The Order’ _the_ nightclub for people who, for their own reasons, prefer not to go to the more traditional bump-and-grind cattle markets in the city centre. The clientele varies depending on the deejay. Hux’s favourite nights are Fridays like tonight when DJ Phasma sends the dancers wild, brings them down, then sends them wild all over again.

Hux starts his night at the door, saying yes or no to the early crowd taking advantage of cheaper entry fees and special offers. Tonight is half price for anyone prominently wearing a pride-themed outfit. He’s training a new bouncer, a woman wearing a suit and make up identical to his own, on the rules. No large singe-sex groups. No under 21s, even if your ID looks legit. No sportswear or team colours. Any prominent tattoos will be checked against a list of appropriated symbols, and then Hux will politely (or not) enforce your removal anyway if he just doesn’t like the look of you.

He points out a group halfway down the line: three white men in their twenties, one of whom is wearing badly applied makeup and a cheap dress. Peera identifies them as part of a stag party and walks down the line, checking IDs and scanning credit cards, until she reaches the group. Hux watches, ready to intervene only if he must, as she remains perfectly calm and stands her ground in the face of heated debate and intimidating body language. Eventually the three curse loudly and walk away joined by a few others from further up the line.  
“Well done, Peera,” he says on her return. Peera waves the first group inside.  
“I said they could leave peacefully,” she replies with a plum coloured smile, “or you’d have the stag’s bell-end in a jar.”

Phasma isn’t on yet, but she will be in an hour or so. Hux knows she is here watching the crowd build up, and although the bar is getting busy it is nowhere near the three-or-four person deep it will be at peak times. Hux looks over the assortment of glittered skin and tight outfits of the clientele and smiles. He and Opan will separately patrol the seating and the dance floor. Paze and Canady will look after the lobby and the restrooms at the entrance. Phasma will have a good overall view from her booth and will signal if she sees anything she doesn’t like. They will all be safe here under watchful eyes.

His smile freezes when he sees the bar staff. Thanisson, Stynnix and Unamo are busy serving bottled drinks and flirting professionally like they are supposed to, plum lipstick making their skin look startlingly pale, tight white shirts accentuating their figures. Unamo is exchanging grins with a woman with bright blonde hair styled in a brutal undercut, although he’s pretty sure she’ll go home with Phasma later. Clearly Unamo has a type, he thinks. Thanisson pauses to blow a kiss at the next customer, a slight, dark-haired man who raises his eyebrows and looks behind him while Than laughs, points, and mouths _for you!_ That much is normal. What is _not_ normal is the mammoth standing at the far end of the bar, biceps bulging as he shakes up a cocktail, dark waves whipping as he flicks hair from his face, features serious as he pours all his effort into straining one drink into an iced glass.

_Seriously?_ Hux thinks. _Snoke hired a new guy, and started him on a Friday? Jeez, break him in like Peera with a Wednesday or something._ The midweek singles night with a special on the house wine, litres of premixed margarita in the fridge, and music from last millennium with DJ Cardinal. Not his Friday crowd... _the_ Friday crowd, Hux corrects himself. He sighs and shakes his head. His job just got ten times harder. He’ll have to patrol the bar too between rounds checking his door policy is being enforced and nobody is getting too rowdy, not just the dance floor and the tables. He frets that a new barkeep might not be able to judge when a client should be politely offered free soft drinks for the rest of the night. Late enough that they have spent plenty of money. Early enough that they are able to get home safely. A new barkeep might not be able to tell when a client has pre-loaded with cheap booze and is halfway to oblivion before ordering their first mojito, or when the person who just ordered a double shot of vodka added to a standard cocktail is planning on giving it to someone unused to alcohol.

He mentally alters his Friday night routine.

Hux patrols diligently, quietly informing a known troublemaker that if he lays a hand on anyone without their written permission in triplicate, Hux will personally supervise the removal of his favourite body part. The client has heard the rumours about Hux and decides to leave. Another client, a regular, greets Hux warmly with a smile and a wave and, as always, the offer of his number. As always, Hux takes it with a smile and a rueful shake of his head, pockets the card and continues working.

Two hours in, almost midnight, all’s well and he decides he can take a break. Phasma is playing something that has the floor packed and the bar has a brief lull so he ducks past the barrier to help himself to iced water. He exchanges brief, signed greetings with Than and Unamo, and looks around. The newbie is nowhere to be seen. He walks over to Unamo, who is pouring beers, and leans close to her ear.  
“NEW GUY ANY GOOD?”  
Unamo shrugs and nods.  
“NOT SERVING ANY DRUNKS JUST TO PISS ME OFF?”  
Unamo bites her lip to stifle a grin. Too late, Hux realises she’s looking past him at a lurking presence behind.  
“NO, BECAUSE I AM AN EXPERIENCED PROFESSIONAL MIXOLOGIST YOU ASSHOLE.”

Hux turns so suddenly that he spills his water. The hulking brute grins, white teeth accentuated by plum lip colour that looks almost black when the lights dance across his face, and Hux is sure his eyes actually sparkle. He glares and reaches his hand up around the man’s head to pull the ‘professional mixologist’ closer and says, “JUST CHECKING I’M NOT IN FOR ANY EXTRA TROUBLE THIS EVENING.”  
Hux lets his hand linger in the thick, dark, wavy hair. He’s startled when the man—Kylo, according to his name badge—laughs, turns his head, and plants a firm kiss on his cheek. Hux slops his water again when his hand jerks in surprise. He takes a step back but there’s nowhere to go and his hips bump the bar behind him. He scowls at Kylo, squeezes past and retreats back to the relative safety of the venue’s darkest corners.

He’ll have his revenge later, just as soon as he decides how to humiliate the stupid fucking brute and make himself look good in the process.

For now, he contents himself with breaking apart and warning a couple getting too handsy in public, confiscating a water bottle that has been used to smuggle spirits into the club, and watching the dance floor for any sign of building aggression. He catches Phasma’s eye and they exchange a smirk and a wink. She’s going to bring the tempo down a bit and most of the dancers will flock to the bar. Than and Unamo are already lining up paper cups of of iced water and Stynnix is checking the fridges are full of premium lager, fruit ciders and colourful alcopops. Kylo is showing off for a customer by juggling with a lemon, a lime and his cocktail shaker. Disappointed that Kylo drops none of these items, Hux finds himself musing on the girth of Kylo’s upper arms and the way the fabric of his uniform teeshirt strains and wrinkles. As Kylo flexes and relaxes, his bicep rounds and flattens and pushes the fabric of his sleeve up a little each time. Kylo really ought to wear the sleeveless version, Hux decides. He’ll see to it on Kylo’s next night that he’s issued with a vest top that won’t catch on his arms.

In the meantime, Hux wants to tear the white cotton and—  
No. He looks away before Kylo sees him staring. He absolutely does _not_ want to rip the shirt from that ridiculously stacked body and trace the outlines of those muscles with his tongue.

His eyes meet Phasma’s again. She gives him a theatrical wink then cracks up laughing.

The client who gave him his card bumps past Hux, immediately apologises and reddens when he realises who he just barged into. Hux gives him a look that he hopes conveys, “I’ll let you off this time but never do that again,” and resumes his patrol.

Phasma soon gives everyone another breather. There are a few couples draped over each other, swaying to the slower beat, and the bar is heaving. Hux goes over to anticipate any potential altercations over spilled drinks and queue jumping, and watches Kylo again.  
He’s mesmerising. He’s still showing off with little flourishes like tossing the shaker up to spin in the air and catching it again with one hand, then throwing a lime up and catching it with a flash of his knife blade so that it falls in two pieces in two glasses. But he’s serving drinks fast enough and those waiting are entertained by the show he’s putting on. So is Hux. Which means he doesn’t catch the first or even the second sign of trouble at the other end of the bar where Than is dealing with an angry client.

Hux’s head whips round at the sound of glass smashing. He elbows his way through the crowd in four seconds but the customer who’s been queue-jumped is already reaching over the bar and grabbing hold of Than by the front of his shirt. Hux takes advantage of the man’s focus on Than and captures the wrist of his free arm as he swings back for a punch. Hux twists and pulls. At the same time, Than ducks and shimmies and the assailant cries out in confusion and pain when he’s suddenly face down on the floor with a searing fire in his shoulder and a teeshirt in his fist.

A crowd forms around them briefly but people don’t want to lose their places at the bar and the other bouncers direct clients to clear the area. The man on the floor, held still by Hux’s armlock and Hux’s foot on his shoulder, stops trying to move after about a minute of fruitless wriggling. Hux hunkers down to order him to sit up slowly when he eases off the pressure, then looks up to check that Than is okay. He gets a shrug and a smile and Than continues serving drinks bare chested. Kylo is staring at Hux. Hux glares back, shrugs and mouths _what?_

Kylo frowns for a couple of seconds, looks at Than then pulls his own shirt off and offers it.  
Than looks like he’s about to drop from shock. He takes the shirt and pulls it on. It’s at least two sizes larger than he usually wears and it makes him look even more delicate than usual. Kylo, on the other hand, oozes power. Hux can barely tear his eyes away from Kylo’s torso for long enough to check that he has not actually twisted his target’s arm right out of its socket. For a second or two, Hux is unsure whether he wants to thank Than for causing Kylo to take his shirt off, or whether he’s having a sharp stab of jealousy that Than got to wear Kylo’s shirt.

A groan brings him back to the ground and he lets the man sit up. One of the other bouncers offers him a cup of water and Hux makes him drink it before letting him stand up. He marches the man to the emergency exit that leads out onto the cobbled back alley and propels him out with enough force that the man stumbles. Hux will grab his photo from the bar CCTV, add it to the collection on the staff office wall, and he will not be allowed to set foot in The Order again.

Back inside, it looks as if nothing happened at all. The broken glass is gone, Phasma has the dance floor packed again, and Unamo is covering for Than until he reappears with a new shirt on. Hux goes behind the bar, past Unamo, takes Kylo’s shirt from Than when he appears and holds it out to Kylo. Kylo smiles, finishes making the drink he’s on and takes his shirt back, slinging it over his shoulder while he slices spirals of lemon peel.

He leans close to Hux’s ear and says, “YOU KNOW JU-JITSU?”  
Hux nods. He can feel heat radiate from Kylo’s skin and he desperately wants to lay his hand on Kylo’s chest to feel the solid bulk of his pectorals then stroke his hand over the symmetrical bulges of his abdominals and the ridges of his serratus muscles. Kylo smells warm and sharp at the same time and Hux wants to get closer, smell the skin where Kylo’s neck curves to meet his shoulder.

Of course he doesn’t. He won’t give the ass the satisfaction of knowing he unsettles Hux. Setting his lips into a tight line, Hux mouths _excuse me_ and turns sideways to go past Kylo to the steps that lead back down to the clients’ floor level at the end of the bar.  
“HEY,” Kylo calls, touching Hux on the arm as he squeezes past. Hux stops, standing so close in the narrow walkway behind the bar that he could touch that warm skin and it would look accidental.

Kylo’s frowning and chewing his lip. Hux tilts his head, frowning back, then someone bangs their empty glass on the bar and the moment is gone. Hux lets one hand slide gently over the side of Kylo’s waist as he slips away. Behind him, Kylo pulls his shirt on and resumes serving cocktails.

Hux is glad of his uniform. The material is comfortable and has enough stretch that he can move freely, and the jacket is long enough at the front to hide the slight bulge of his semi. The lights are low enough that he doesn’t have to worry about anyone seeing he’s half hard at the slightest touch of Kylo’s skin. The more he muses about what might have happened, the harder he gets until he’s sure someone will notice. If he can’t get his mind off the feel of Kylo’s skin under his fingers, he’ll have to go deal with it in the restrooms.

He sees a familiar face on the dance floor and he feels for the card in his pocket.  
He could send a text.  
He could.  
Others do, he knows, although he is proud of never having been beaten by the temptation. Other staff members swap numbers with clients and sometimes arrange to meet them in quiet corners for quick, fumbling relief. He watches the man dance for a little longer. The man is not unattractive, and he’s all the prettier in Hux’s eyes for his obvious interest. He takes out his phone and the card. _Dopheld Mitaka, Accountant,_ and a hand written number neatly penned under the printed one. Hand a little unsteady, Hux types awkwardly with his thumb.  
_r u still intrestd_

He hits send then puts his phone away and patrols the club. There’s an altercation developing amongst three people over someone who bought a drink for someone else’s date and whether accepting it counts as the first stage of cheating. Exasperated by the banality of it, Hux tells all three to leave and messages the other bouncers to make sure they go.

On his next pass of the dance floor, he sees that Mitaka is nowhere in sight. Probably went home with someone else, Hux thinks. But as he checks the restrooms for illicit activities, music deadened to muffled thumps, he finds Mitaka waiting.  
“Yes,” is all Mitaka says.  
Hux considers what he wants. Kylo, obviously, but he’s clearly an arsehole. A beautiful, well-muscled arsehole. Probably has a cock the size of—  
“So? Are we on for this?” Mitaka adds.  
Hux is brought back into the moment. Mitaka is good looking, available and willing.  
“What did you have in mind?” Hux asks.  
Mitaka grins nervously. When he speaks, it’s rapid and quiet. “I want you to pretend you’re throwing me out the fire escape then fuck me outside in the alley, against the wall.”

Hux raises his eyebrows as he absorbs this image for a few seconds. It’s not repellent. He takes a breath to say “okay” when the door swings open and Kylo clatters into an empty stall, banging it shut. Hux rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Mitaka blinks a few times and leaves. A minute later, Hux gets a text calling him a wanker. He scoffs at himself. At this rate, a quick wank will be his only remaining option for relief tonight.

As Hux turns to leave, Kylo emerges from his stall and begins to wash his hands.  
“Wait,” he says. Hux stops but doesn’t turn around.  
“That was hot,” Kylo says. “The way you floored that asshole who was bothering Thanisson.”  
Hux feels his face warm at the thought that Kylo finds him hot.  
“You look like a twig,” Kylo says. “But you really know how to use your opponent’s own weight against them.”  
“Yes, well,” Hux replies. _Don’t fluster don’t fluster don’t fluster..._ “I, um, train three times a week. And teach a class.” He glances at Kylo when the hand dryer roars. “You should come.”

He cringes at the way that might sound and reaches for the door, but Kylo gets to the handle first and Hux’s hand lands on Kylo’s paw.  
“I should,” Kylo says quietly. “And so should you. Than’s covering for me. We’ve got time for a quick fuck if you want.”  
Hux stares for a few seconds. “Are you actually propositioning me in a restroom?” he says.  
Kylo looks surprised. “Yes,” he says. “I want you. I thought you wanted me too. Was I reading you wrong?”  
“Well, I—” Hux stops and bites his lip. Kylo’s lips spread slowly into a grin. “Oh shut up,” Hux says, stifling a giggle, hand sliding up Kylo’s arm and squeezing his bicep.

Kylo laughs, bends his knees and grabs Hux around the thighs, lifting his toes clear of the floor and carrying him, still giggling, into a stall and setting him down with a bump. Hux’s elbows bang the wall hard enough to make it rattle when he tries to loosen his clothes and Kylo almost trips over the toilet. It smells squalid and the paper dispenser digs into Hux’s back. But as soon as Kylo kisses him he doesn’t care. Hux grapples with the hem of Kylo’s shirt and thrusts his hands under the fabric to stroke and knead Kylo’s firm muscles while Kylo’s tongue flicks over his. He lets Kylo capture his lower lip and pull at it with his teeth, and he gasps when Kylo’s warm hand slides under his waistband, pulling it tight around his back. Hux reluctantly takes his hands off Kylo and unfastens his suit trousers. Kylo hurriedly shimmies his tight jeans down. Hux throws one arm around Kylo’s neck, accidentally punching the wall in the process and kisses back hard, grinding his hips into Kylo’s. Kylo plants both hands on Hux’s ass and pulls their hips tight together. They rut against each other for a full minute, lost in desire.

Hux pulls back first. “I don’t want come on my uniform.”  
“We can blow each other then,” Kylo says, then looks at the floor. “But not in here.”  
The main restroom door crashes open and two voices talk in sniggers, then the door to the farthest stall clatters and locks. Hux stands still and puts a hand over Kylo’s mouth. Kylo licks Hux’s fingers slowly, making Hux stifle a giggle, and his hand rests firmly over Hux’s cock.  
Hux closes his eyes and leans against Kylo while Kylo slowly strokes his cock. He desperately wants Kylo to speed up, but he also wants this to last. He wants to drag Kylo by the hand back to the bar and get that magnificent cock in his mouth, see if Kylo can still do fancy tricks while Hux sucks him off. He wants—

Hux moans a complaint when Kylo stops. “Turn around,” Kylo says quietly, as if the couple in the other stall might care. “If you want. Check my back pocket.”  
Hux finds Kylo’s pockets, so Hux finds lube and a condom.  
Hux kisses Kylo one more time and turns around.

Kylo is generous with the lube and pushes in slowly, checking that Hux is comfortable. He’s not, exactly, but the burn of the stretch will ease and he wants this. Hux braces his forearms against the wall. Kylo breathes praise in his ear, making his skin tingle. He moves in slow, shallow thrusts that soon have Hux begging wordlessly for more, thrusting back onto Kylo, tilting his hips to get that perfect angle. Kylo speeds up, anchored by a firm grip around Hux’s waist, and his breathing becomes a series of short moans in Hux’s ear.

Hux desperately wants to touch himself but he can’t move his arms and risk the skin of his face contacting the wall. He thinks Kylo is about to come and thinks the mental image alone might be enough to send him over his own edge. Kylo’s hips speed up and he groans aloud, then a large, warm hand clasps Hux’s cock and soon he’s coming too, waves of pleasure rippling through him and come spurting onto the wall. He stills Kylo’s hand and grins as kylo pulls out of him. A condom splashes into the bowl and Kylo flushes it. Hux fixes his clothes and turns to face Kylo.  
“For future reference,” he says, “don’t flush. Bin. Plays havoc with the plumbing.”

Kylo laughs and nods. They clean up best they can, washing their hands and retouching the uniform issue plum lipstick, leave the restroom (ignoring the annoyed glares) and go back to work. As soon as Kylo is back behind the bar, Phasma brings the tempo down and people drift away from the dance floor. She catches Hux’s eye and gives him a double thumbs-up. Hux pretends not to have seen it but he can’t hide his smile.

An hour later Hux decides it’s time to close. Phasma has said a rousing goodnight to her crowd and switched the music over to a programmed mix that nobody really wants to dance to. Unamo is serving soft drinks only and Than is cleaning the countertop. Kylo is restocking the cocktail side of the bar ready for Saturday and the bouncers are calmly moving clients who look in danger of falling asleep and escorting them out to the line of waiting taxis by the front door. The club is almost empty when the music is silenced and Hux turns the lights up so that brightness floods into the dim corners of the cavernous space, revealing the detritus of a busy Friday night. Ears ringing, the bouncers do a sweep to make sure no stray client ends up locked in for the cleaners to find in a few hours, then Hux says thank you and goodnight to his staff and stays to lock up.

Hux is always last out of the back doors. He closes the shutters and rattles the lock then walks the short distance around the front where he hopes there will be one more cab to take him home. There is. He trots over but curses silently when he sees there is already a passenger in the back.  
“Hux!”  
Hux dips down to peer in at the passenger. It’s Kylo.  
“Get in.”  
Hux frowns, but it’s a cold night. He’s exhausted and the street is silent. He doesn’t want to have to wait for another cab. Kylo smiles when he gets in and closes the door. The driver pulls away.  
“Your place or mine?” Kylo says with a grin. “I bet yours is nicer.”  
Hux is too tired to care. He thinks for the length of time it takes for the cab to reach the end of the street then says, “Go left here,” and gives an address. The driver nods and grunts.  
“Mine,” he says. “I hope you like cats.”  
“Sure,” Kylo says, reaching across to lay a hand on Hux’s thigh. He squeezes once and goes quiet.  
“Are you okay?” Hux asks. “I can get the driver to drop you at your place then take me home.”  
“It’s not that,” Kylo says with a tight little smile. “I’ve been living in this country for a couple of years and I though I’d gotten used to the way you all speak. But I heard a new word tonight. What did it mean when I offered either olive or onion garnish and the customer asked me for a _pickled bellend_?”  
Hux snorted and laughed. “I don’t think we have any in stock. Tomorrow I will show you how to add _one jar of pickled bellends_ to your order book.”


End file.
